


Zero Blade

by Starfic



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starfic/pseuds/Starfic





	Zero Blade

The large cargo-hauler’s hover nodes screamed down the crowded freeway. The driver, having already bled out a dizzying amount of blood from three angry holes in his stomach, was swerving violently to make it that much harder on his pursuer. The beep of his hacker chip sitting in his lap got gradually more distorted in his ears. Special Agent H fought to keep up with the desperate driving of the hauler. She grimly put her hovercycle through its paces as she weaved through countless citi-zippers holding pissed off passengers. Not that any of them were in any real danger; their cars’ AI would keep them safe. Although, nobody wanted to add a few more seconds to their trip. She paid no mind to the small children pressing their noses against the glass of their parent’s car windows, watching someone who legally doesn’t exist. Her eyes were locked on the single precious white crate strapped down in the cargo hold of the hauler. Two swinging corporate-chrome back doors sporadically blocked her view of her mark as she precariously got closer to them. Ozone sharply caught in her throat as she set her motorcycle to autopilot and slowly stood on the slim leather seat.

She’d only ever attempted this death wish of a maneuver once before in her holo-training. Then, her mentor had slapped her on the wrist for reckless misuse of training time. Now, her mentor’s voice was ringing in her head through her helmet’s interior speakers, swearing that she’d have her badge revoked if she didn’t back down that instant. That she was worth a lot more than a suicide mission-- no matter how critical it was to neutralize the package as soon as possible.

Agent H wasn’t listening. She was dead set on her mission. Too many lives were at stake. She tore her helmet off to get the annoying HUD out of her field of vision and her mentor’s demanding voice out of her head. The wind whipped around her sweaty face as she focused all her energy on staying balanced and keeping her nerve. She steadied her legs, held out her arms, and waited for the precious moment when one of the doors would swing close enough for her to grab.

A few seconds of waiting that felt like eternity later, she put her life into her own hands and leapt from her motorcycle. A breathless moment suspended in rushing air, and suddenly she was clinging to cold metal. It shrieked out a complaint under her sudden weight as it continued to sway nauseatingly with the driver’s yanking on the steering wheel.

She whipped her head to the left and kicked out her leg just in time to land on the edge of the cargo hold, slipping inside just before the other door could slam shut on her. She shook with adrenaline and fear as she took in the menacing white metal box before her. She knew what her mission was; to destroy the teleportation device inside. By any means.

Anxiously swiping her tongue over her upper lip, she took a few wobbly steps forward and hooked her fingers onto the top edge of the box. Using her new grip to maintain her balance, she yanked the front panel away from herself—and was abruptly sucked inside the box. The cover had almost magnetically snapped back into place instead of tumbling down the highway.

Her tenuous control over her breathing instantly evaporated as the already snug walls started closing in. The hard reality of meeting death like so many impacted old-world cars had in their miserable junk yards had flooded into her mind. She had gotten out of many other near-death situations before, but this time it seemed death had a much firmer ice-cold grip on her soul.

She screamed. Praying to whatever deity that would listen and hysterically trying to think of a way out of this. Her helmet hopelessly far away from her, likely shattered by the oncoming traffic.

The unyielding metal continued to crush her, and she desperately tried to make herself smaller. As if she could fold herself small enough to escape her fate. When her shoulders and toes couldn’t fold in much more, she felt a strong sensation all over her body. Like someone had shoved her consciousness eight inches from her body and pureed every single atom that made her up.

The next moment, the top of the box was torn open, and she was somewhere else entirely. In the deafening sudden silence, soft fluorescent light flooded her confines. After a breathless moment waiting for death, she peeked over the top of the box. Four people, including her assumed savior, regarded her with even stares. Registering a lack of immediate danger, she quickly took in her new surroundings. It was a quiet lounge room, with a video feed on the wall from a helicopter’s point of view. She willed her eyes to focus and she recognized the cargo-hauler, now apprehended by several collision cops. The limp body of the chip hacker hanging out of the side window. Ah. So, this was The Final Test. She was beginning to wonder when they’d finally get around to her.

Every Special Agent went through some hair-raising trial to prove their loyalty to Unbreakable Inc. and overcome their greatest fears. She guessed that insane chip hacker chase was her own special slice to hell to walk through. Her mentor knew she hated having to make snap decisions, especially if it went against her mentor’s judgement. Even if she technically wasn’t her superior.

Turning her attention to the rest of the room, she sensed that the other people expected some sort of introduction from her. Awkwardly shifting in her box, she addressed the tall man who had opened her teleport box. “Ah, hello. Sir. I’m Special Agent H,” Her voice had a quiver to it. “I’m assuming you four are my new assignment?” She internally winced at herself. Ten years of intensive training to be ready for any situation, and she introduces herself like a shy elementary school kid.

Well. She supposed she could give herself a pass just this once. She was certain she was about to die under a minute ago, after all.

An almost fond smile curled his lips as he extended his hand to Agent H. The stylish cut and deep raspberry color of his suit sharply complimented his complexion and figure. He looked to be about in his thirties with deep pockets. Shakily taking his hand and stepping up and out of the box, she noticed the others sizing her up. A younger man, probably in his early twenties, turned his head to his identical twin as they lazily got off the couch. “Looks like we got one with guts, huh.” An impish grin took over his features. “Last time we got one of these he totally barfed all over the—” He was cut off with a sharp look from the third person in the room. Her shocking cobalt blue eyes narrowing at his informal interjection. Or was it his gaudy ShiftCloth outfit? With eye-searing colors that shifted and snaked like neon water around his entire body, how anyone could stand looking at him for more than a few seconds was beyond Agent H. The man in the expensive suit moved to the other side of the table, taking a comfortable seat in a plush lounge chair. “Don’t skew the results, Pol.” She rolled forward in what looked like a performance sport wheelchair. From the old-world. It sat indignantly anachronistic against the otherwise up-to-date lounge room. Stranger and stranger. “Hello, Special Agent H. I’m Anza. Glad to see you’ve survived your Final Test in one piece. Unfortunately, there is no time for any further niceties.” She plucked a projector chip out from her hijab and pressed it into the table that still held the receiver teleport box. Agent H suppressed her discomfort of holding a briefing in the same room as that death trap box. A 3-D model of what looked like a large, albeit strangely designed, mega mall flickered into being to her right. Grateful for something to focus on, Agent H’s eyes expertly analyzed the slowly rotating transparent structure. It looked like one of those malls constructed exclusively for the children of elites. A place for them to be tossed away when they got in the way of their parents or when they wanted to temporarily run away from their inevitable lives as the new titans of the corporate world. She knew them to be nothing but spoiled know-nothings with itchy trigger fingers.

Agent H steadied her shaking hand on the pommel of one of her three Zero blades strapped just under her right hip as Anza continued with her brisk briefing. “We have intel that there is going to be a battle royale hosted at this mall. And judging by the readings from Cas’s feed flies,” She gestured to the second twin at her left, who offered a small firm nod. “The tip’s corroborated with chatter among the influencer Mega Corp kids.” That particularly caught Agent H’s attention. Sure, there were the barest whispers buried amongst the most hidden moles. But nothing so concrete as this. The Upper Circles were impenetrable by anyone of even a slightly lower caste; finding concrete evidence and blueprints for something as highly illegal as a battle royale was unheard of. Agent H adjusted her attitude about these people to something brushing reverence. These people meant business and they had the connections to carry it out. “We’re going to infiltrate with some morph masks, cover clothes, and stunners. Brenn will provide those.” She nodded to the man in the nice suit as she expertly manipulated the hologram. There was something almost familiar about him that Agent H couldn’t put her finger on.

“Call me Mr. Patrrow.” A charming quirk in his eyebrow graced his literally sculpted features. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Special Agent H. I’ve been watching your progress through the academy very closely.” He had a controlled baritone voice. ‘Like someone who’s starred in so many vids that his professional voice became his normal speaking voice,’, Agent H silently mused. “You’ve shown expert skill in almost every category we need you in. That’s why we arranged for your Final Test to deliver you straight into our hands.” He put on a slightly apologetic face “Sorry that we’re putting you to work directly after such a… strenuous event. I understand that normally your kind are allowed at least a month’s time off after graduation…” He fixed Agent H with his jaw set in a cool warning expression. “And well trained in keeping vital secrets.” That’s when it clicked. He was the Brenn M Patrrow. The news anchor of choice for all the most hard-hitting cases in the entire northern hemisphere. His face was so ubiquitous that Agent H almost didn’t recognize him in person. ‘He somehow looks… different without all those data feeds and that AccuNews logo in the corner of a screen,’ Agent H thought with a sense of awe fizzling at the edges of her brain. People like him just didn’t show up out of nowhere. Especially not around someone like Agent H who’s classified under the serving class, despite all her hard-earned qualifications.

She quickly gathered herself and returned his apology with a tight smile. “As an agent, it’s second nature to be able to handle any situation. Even if that means throwing some tradition down a waste shaft,” She wearily shifted her weight to ease off the leg that she had landed on to get inside the cargo-hauler moments ago. Her slow release pain killer implants took their time to kick in, just as she had requested all those years ago when she started her time in the academy. It had served as a great motivator to make much faster strides past her peers. During her training, her peers had dulled their pain receptors almost past the point of usability, claiming that it made them faster. “I need less time needed to recover; just slap a muscle patch on and go!”, they had said. Only she and her mentor could see that it was, in fact, lengthening the time needed to pass their core agility and CQC courses. Pain has a way of correcting poor form and other inefficiencies. Small lessons that can lead to life saving split second decisions. Even so, after her long history with pain, she was finding the delayed release pointedly inconvenient. This was her first assignment and she wasn’t quite sure what her new employers had in mind for her.

Pol broke into the middle of her thoughts with his slightly nasally voice. “Are we gonna keep pretending that we’re some neutered cop-org, or are we gonna finally relax and tell her what we really are?” His eyes darted around the room with a wry, almost accusing look. He crossed his arms, waiting for some sort of reaction. Like he knew he was kicking a hornet’s nest. Cas and Anza shot dirty glares at Pol, while Mr. Patrrow seemed amused. He just stood back and took in the developing drama. ‘Wait, why isn’t he stepping in? What kind of stake does he have in this, anyway?’. Anza gave a heated nod to Cas and flicked her eyes back to her 3-D model of the mall. She was setting up figures and waypoints at various locations in the model.

Cas stomped behind Anza and put a firm hand on Pol’s shoulder from behind. “We are.” Cas ground out his words between his teeth. “An organization with a clear chain of command.” He punctuated the word ‘clear’ by jabbing his finger into his brother’s narrow back. If looks could kill, he could probably have stopped Pol’s heart right in that moment. ‘Looks like Pol’s big mouth is a regular problem in this… “organization”.’ Agent H thought to herself, swallowing her own words aimed at getting things back on track.

She could practically watch the professional façade in the room dissolve as Pol’s playfully challenging expression didn’t change very much. He looked over his shoulder at Cas. “I dunno when that decision was made, but I sure as hell wasn’t involved in it.” He flippantly rolled his eyes and looked back to Agent H while Cas boiled where he stood. “Before Mrs. Know-It-All bores you with all her little details, I’ll just give you the cliff notes,” He looked almost too pleased. “We’re gonna sneak into that elite scum mall and crack some skulls for Anza.” He made a fist in one hand and ground it into the other. Mr. Patrro’s passively amused expression hardened at Pol’s classist jab. Anza was too absorbed in her 3-D model to notice.

Agent H was not impressed. ‘Who the hell are these people,’ she thought annoyedly. ‘First, they yank me into their hideout without any prior documentation, and now I have to deal with this mess of a command? I thought the blind employ-pull was because this was a seriously all-important mission. Some clean under the table op or something. Now I’m wondering if these guys were even approved by the World Authority Board.’ She flatly glanced at Cas, then at Pol, tapping her fingers on the table. Straightening up, she decided to set aside decorum as well. “Is babysitting you going to be part of my assignment? Or am I mistaken.” Pol’s face fell at her weary tone, and he started fidgeting with his colorful shirt hem, wrinkling the multi-chromatic shift-cloth.

Mr. Patrrow guffawed and said, “Sometimes I wonder that myself, Special Agent H.” He adjusted the shining opal cufflinks in his suit jacket, his crafted mildly entertained expression back in place. He waved his hand. “Cas, would you be so kind as to direct our… associate to a separate room. We all know how uppity he can get.”

Anza spoke up, her model ready for her presentation. “Please do, he always breaks my concentration.” A long-suffering expression washed over her face. It seems she was trying hard to keep it together as well.

Cas’ hand noticeably tightened on Pol’s shoulder, his thin fingers digging into his shoulder “I suggest.” Cas’ tone was a threat wrapped in a need for control. “That you let our top funder and operational director guide us through the mission briefing, brother.”

Pol’s entire body took on a defensive posture as he turned to face everyone else. “God damn! I can’t say anything around you prim prissy little—” Cas was now forcibly moving Pol to a door to Agent H’s right.

“Quiet. Before you cost us another job.” Cas hissed in Pol’s ear, continuing to man handle him out of the room. Once they had left, Anza seemed to visibly relax as she moved to the head of the table to begin her explanation.

“Now that we can continue in a much more…” She took a steadying breath, rubbing her temples. “…Civil manner. Let’s go over our plan of attack.” The 3-D model zoomed in on the entrance, where three figures stood. Their concealed weapons highlighted in angry red.


End file.
